


The Lost Notebook

by Memento__Mori



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Loss, Other, Power of Words, Shock, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memento__Mori/pseuds/Memento__Mori
Summary: It had been an unremarkable day, given the usual last-minute chaos that usually accompanied a trip with the Host Club, Kyoya thought.Things seemed, if not perfect, at least realistic, last he had checked the notebook which never left his pocket or satchel.With the need to confirm what he saw and what he had believed, unthinkingly he reached for that touchstone, his record of so much that was seldom if ever shared.The notebook was missing. His heart froze.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	The Lost Notebook

It had been an unremarkable day, given the usual last-minute chaos that usually accompanied a trip with the Host Club, Kyoya thought.

Things seemed, if not perfect, at least realistic, last he had checked the notebook which never left his pocket or satchel.

With the need to confirm what he saw and what he had believed, unthinkingly he reached for that touchstone, his record of so much that was seldom if ever shared.

The notebook was missing. His heart froze. The room seemed to echo, though the rest had left before him.

This could not be happening.

Methodically, Kyoya slowly, calmly, felt his pockets. Nothing.

Again, even as his eyes scanned his familiar table, his hand reached past the crisp fabric of the uniform jacket to the pocket that rest inside, a satin lining over his heart that had held his ... plans, inspirations, so much data, but mostly...

Words he treasured.

The urge to tear through Music Room 3 was barely contained. If it was here, he would find it.

Again, absently, his hand reached for the one thing that brought him calm.

Nothing. Of course, it was missing. So many months of inspiration, of hope, of things that only his eyes ever spoke.

When had data become mixed with inspiration?

He could not check. It was gone. 

And it finally came to rest in his mind, that awful thought. It was gone. Truly.

The record, his words... how could they be... his head spun, the ache behind his left eye sprung up from nowhere. Thin, delicate fingers grasped the small table, went white.

I will not hyperventilate, he told himself as panic and pain took him. Still, he clutched his chest and felt its rapid rise and fall. The loss—

was unspeakable. 

His bulwark, his sounding board, his safe small place, the comforting numbers, the dreams—  
could not be recreated.

The too-pink walls wavered in his sight, clear, warped, encroaching. The migraine had only started, this

was something else.

It was only after ransacking the room half-blind, mouth slack, every one of his beautiful features distorted in panic, that he finally understood why he could not see.

So unfamiliar. 

Grey eyes, his, were a flood of tears. It was no wonder he was blind. Had he always been?

How could he have put such trust in something that could disappear in a moment?   
He had never doubted its safety.

Almost removed from himself, he felt the tension in his neck knot up past bearing, tasted tin in his mouth, and bit back bile. The throbbing robbed him of his reason.

He was on the floor, graceless, on hands and knees, covered in a sheer sweat.

Every breath he drew felt like broken glass, and each breath came quickly, more panic, more pain.

The tears glazed his hot face in the empty room.

He was exhausted, broken. Almost a year of him ripped away.

The words were gone.

———  
Had anyone been listening at that late hour in the hallway outside of the Host Club, they would have heard the pure notes of loss from behind the door.

The hallway was empty as a pocket, and cold as the late-autumn air.


End file.
